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Yeah, I said it. I am that crotchety old man living down the street who yells at the kids in the neighborhood to get the hell off his lawn. You would be grouchy, too, if you had put up with all the bullshit I have in 2011. Living in Japan during that earthquake, the dispersal of my friends from Tokyo across the globe and then reacclimating to the idiocy of the political crap in the USA. And maybe I am a total grinch, but seeing Harry Potter, Hormonal Gringer and Ron Weazle come at us with their 87th tour de force of wand waving and Muggle thumping makes me wanna punch the bespectacled twat in the face. You could see it in Maggie Smith’s countenance, “Will this weary franchise just fucking end already,” she seemed to be saying as she dutifully wagged her Expecto Patranus for the 952nd time.

I suppose the big problem was that I was never in the target audience for the series to begin with, and had no nieces and nephews of age that I could take to the theater and somehow stomach a kids’ movie. The whole Hogwart’s rigmarole was always just too saccharine and not edgy enough for me—which is fine because it is a kids’ movie. I just don’t watch kid stuff.

The only Harry Potter I wanna see is the one with only adults entitled Hairy Potter and the Philosopher’s Arse which sits proudly next to Ebony Stallions in my collection of pornographic DVDs. I guess my issue was that Harry Potter had the Superman Flaw: he had enough magic and superpowers never to be in any real danger for the entirety of this tiresome series that has now lasted five decades. That along with the fact that the dialogue never seemed all that witty in my opinion. Look at me, grouchy grinch going at it again.

So I went today. I put on the 3D specs, bought a $12 Diet Coke and watched the film if only to check its pulse and confirm to myself that the series is actually dead. I almost shed a tear from the place under my eyes that would contain tear ducts if I weren’t the grinch who yelled at kids to get the fuck off my lawn before I kicked their pets and told them there was no Santy Claus. I won’t disclose any plot points. Will Harry die? Will Lord Voldemort die? Will Hagrid open up that hydroponic greenhouse to sell kine bud to the Muggles? You only can find this out by going to the film to add to Ms. Rowlings’ coffers. After making more than $6 Billion worldwide with just the films, I imagine J.K. sneezes boogers into £100 notes and is preparing to simply buy the nation Ireland (she needs some space to build a gazebo). So though I was happy the movie franchise Harry Potter is coming to an end, I know Ms. Rowling has rolled out an online Harry Potter World and Warner Bros. has £100 Million tied up in a Harry Potter amusement citadel in the UK. The only thing I’ll say about the content of the film is it has a theme of “legacies” and “life after death,” and even though I was hoping we would all finally bid adieu to HP et al., I suppose it is too much to ask that Warner Bros. would turn its biggest cash cow into steak before it had bred a few calves for the next generation.

Did you see what I just did? I think that cash cow metaphor is just a little beyond awesome. You’re welcome. Now get the fuck off my lawn!!

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